Pepper & Salt; or, Seasoning for Young Folk. Говард Пайл

      And the meaning of all this is, that many another

      man beside Jacob Boehm would find himself

      in a pretty scrape only for his wife.

      A noisy chattering Magpie once

      A talking gabbling hairbrained dunce

      Came by where a sign-post stood.

      He nodded his head with a modish air

      And said "good day" for he wasn't aware

      That the sign-post pointing its finger there

      Was only a block of wood.

      Quoth he, "An exceedingly sultry day.

      T'is more like June than the first of May."

      The post said never a word.

      "I've just dropped over from Lincolnshire.

      My home is in the Cathedral Spire —

      The air is cooler and purer the higher

      You get – as you've doubtless heard."

      So on he chattered with never a stop,

      And on and on till you'd think he would drop.

      (The post was dumb as your hat.)

      But so as the pie could say his say

      He didn't care whether it spoke all day;

      For thus he observed as he walked away —

      "An intelligent creature that."

      Now once when the sky was pouring rain,

      The Magpie chanced to come by again —

      And there stood the post in the wet.

      "Helloa." said the Magpie. "What you here

      Pray tell me I beg is there sheltering near —

      A terrible day for this time of the year.

      T'would make a Saint Anthony fret."

      "I beg your pardon – I didn't quite hear."

      (Then louder) "I say is there sheltering near"

      But the post was as dumb as Death.

      "What can't you answer a question pray

      You will not – No – Then I'll say good-day."

      And flirting his tail he walked away.

      "You'r a fool." (this under his breath.)

      The moral that this story traces

      Is – Circumstances alter cases.

      I saw an old woman go up a steep hill,

      And she chuckled and laughed, as she went, with a will.

      And yet, as she went,

      Her body was bent,

      With a load as heavy as sins in Lent.

      "Oh! why do you chuckle, old woman;" says I,

      "As you climb up the hill-side so steep and so high?"

      "Because, don't you see,

      I'll presently be,

      At the top of the hill. He! he!" says she.

      I saw the old woman go downward again;

      And she easily travelled, with never a pain;

      Yet she loudly cried,

      And gustily sighed,

      And groaned, though the road was level and wide.

      "Oh! why, my old woman," says I, "do you weep,

      When you laughed, as you climbed up the hill-side so steep?"

      "High-ho! I am vexed,

      Because I expects,"

      Says she, "I shall ache in climbing the next."

      Twelve geese

      In a row

      (So these

      Always go).

      Down-hill

      They meander,

      Tail to bill;

      First the gander.

      So they stalked,

      Bold as brass

      As they walked

      To the grass.

      Suddenly

      Stopped the throng;

      Plain to see

      Something's wrong

      Yes; there is

      Something white!

      No quiz;

      Clear to sight.

      ('Twill amuse

      When you're told

      'Twas a news-

      Paper old.)

      Gander spoke.

      Braver bird

      Never broke

      Egg, I've heard:

      "Stand here

      Steadily,

      Never fear,

      Wait for me."

      Forth he went,

      Cautious, slow,

      Body bent,

      Head low.

      All the rest

      Stood fast,

      Waiting for

      What passed.

      Wind came

      With a caper,

      Caught same

      Daily paper.

      Up it sailed

      In the air;

      Courage failed

      Then and there.

      Scared well

      Out of wits;

      Nearly fell

      Into fits.

      Off they sped,

      Helter-skelter,

      'Till they'd fled

      Under shelter.

      Poor geese!

      Never mind;

      Other geese

      One can find,

      Cut the same

      Foolish caper

      At empty wind

      In a paper.